MADELINE
I watched Cian choke.
He was choking on Morrigan's cooking, That was my first thought, which seemed impossible because the woman could make even simple bread taste like heaven. But his fork clattered to the table and Ronan was already moving, slamming his hand against Cian's back with enough force to dislodge anything stuck in his throat.
Except Cian's face told me this wasn't about food.
His hands clawed at his chest like he was trying to rip something out from inside. His eyes went wide and unfocused. The color drained from his face so fast I thought he might pass out right there at the table.
"Cian?" Morrigan's voice cut through the silence.
He didn't answer. He just sat there, gasping, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Then, just as suddenly as it started, he went still. Like someone had flipped a switch and turned off whatever had been tormenting him.
But the look on his face got worse.
